a glowing report
thanx for the effort
& congrats on bringing home our first living ghost clave
or seemingly just an empty hole in reality at this point
however fascinating to contemplate
courageous of those try pointers too
but anyway it calls the question
being without any further raison d etre
& having no one to isolate or inconvenience any more etc etc
except perhaps for a colony of already grotesquely shaped birds
would you guess this clave is a likely candidate for abolishment
& would that be a good or a bad thing
yikes
abolish clavery
& emancipate the claves
i just dont know
it will probably sound terribly subversive to our claveholders
not to mention our ghost lovers
who would be radiant to finally get some real lebensraum
only to learn it isnt quite there any more either
so lets not be too hasty i tell myself
--- In BoundaryPoint@y..., Peter Smaardijk <smaardijk@y...>
wrote:
> Just found on the site of the Russian weekly Rossija (
> http://www.russianews.ru/index.php?body=pub&id=103 ).
>
> (translation is mine; Latin-2 encoding for best results)
>
> Peter S.
>
> -----
>
> NO ENTRY!
> But our correspondent did, after all, get to Russian soil in
> Byelorussia
>
> It was still in the Soviet era when I made an interesting
discovery: on
> a map of the Byelorussian SSR, I found a minuscule territory,
having an
> entirely different colour than Byelorussia, which was made
subordinate
> to the administrative structure of the RSFSR by an indicative
arrow.
> Russian soil in Byelorussia?
>
> I asked the executive committee in Gomel' for explanation
that very
> same enclave was in the Gomel' region, after all. Yes, they
answered
> me, the villages Medve?'e and San'kovo were part of Brjansk
province,
> Russian Federation.
>
> That very day I took off on a search in the Polesian woods and
marshes
> for this Russian territory. And I found it! This is the history of the
> enclave. In ancient times, some enterprising farmers lived in
the
> Brjansk village of Dobrodeevka, but land poorer than theirs
(sand and
> marshland) apparently was not found in the entire district. The
farmers
> took a decision and went to make their living as far away as in
North
> America, working in the coal mines of the Indian Company in
> Pennsylvania. For three years, they bent their backs below the
ground.
> They returned home before the First World War and bought
land from the
> Byelorussian landowner S<caron>vedov. They moved to the Medve?'e
dubrava
> (=Bears oak wood) and Sanina poljana (=Sanja's clearing)
and built
> their houses there. They ploughed a bumpy, uneasy piece of
land. They
> got to catch fish in the little river Iput'. And the woods were
nearby,
> just behind the gardens. And they started to make a living
there. In
> this way, behind the border, these Russian hamlets (both with
ten to
> fifteen farms) Medve?'e and San'kovo came into existence.
One spring,
> the newcomers hoisted an old wagon wheel on to the top of
the highest
> birch tree, secured it to the top with some string, so that it
wouldn't
> be blown off, and waited for the storks to come. And the storks
came.
>
> "Your storks come from our nest", said the Byelorussians of
the
> neighbouring village with the name Chatki. "That means that
your brides
> should now live with us in our nest". The potential grooms from
Chatki
> didn't leave the others wait for them. So, in the midst of the
woods
> and the marshes of Polesia, the Russians lived amidst the
> Byelorussians. They didn't quarrel, didn't bargain, but married
and
> became kinsfolk.
>
> In 1926, all problems linked to administrative boundaries were
decided
> on the spot by a joint committee, set up by the Central
Executive
> Committee and made up of representatives of each of the
union
> republics. Taking into account the will of the inhabitants of
these
> villages, the committee left Medve?'e and San'kovo under
Russian rule.
>
> During the war, the Russians gladly helped the Byelorussian
partisans
> and fought in their ranks. When the fascists burned down
Chatki, the
> refugees found harbour in San'kovo and Medve?'e. Chata
Kor?ova, living
> in the one-but-last house of San'kovo, still being a child
herself,
> took in the Berèenko family, five members in all. The
Belopuchovs found
> harbour in Medve?'e. In this village, at Stepan Pesenko's
place, Pëtr
> Taraev, with wife and three children, was housed. The Gorevs
stayed at
> Filipp Molèanov. In Medve?'e there was also place for the
Jurèenko's,
> the Makus<caron>èenko's, the Borisenko's
>
> But the bitter cup didn't go past the Russians either: at the end
of
> the summer of forty three, the fascists burned down Medve?'e
and
> San'kovo, and the red village head Sevost'jan Spravcev and his
wife
> Evdokija were shot for having links with the partisans.
>
> After the war, Medve?'e and San'kovo were raised from the
ashes. Chatki
> as well. After that, the farmers joined efforts in draining the
> marshes, and enjoyed big harvests. On my (first) visit to
Medve?'e I
> saw a prosperous village: streetlights were shining bright from
the
> lamp posts, and TV screens shimmered from behind the
windows. Who could
> imagine back then that this land, where everything breathed
prosperity
> and where one could live, as it were, forever, could, from one
moment
> to another, turn into a (I dread to say this!) zone of death, where
it
> is forbidden to be or enter.
>
> It is like the cry of a guard, that what you encounter on the edge
of
> Medve?'e, this sign saying "Stop!", together with a sign
indicating
> radiation danger. A terrible sight! Empty, abandoned
settlements. A
> fence made out of heating tubes. A broken-off winch of a well.
The
> weeds are more than man-high everywhere. You're standing
there for a
> while, paralysed, hoping to catch an albeit faint sound of life,
but to
> no avail. Not the cutting of the axe, not the sound of the bucket
in
> the well, not the familiar cry of the cock. Just that silence that
> freezes your soul, all around!
>
> Medve?'e and San'kovo can only still be found on old maps;
the villages
> don't exist anymore as settlements. The people left their native
soil,
> saving themselves from the Èernobyl' clouds. Only the storks
stayed
> behind. Also Chatki, as well as other surrounding villages,
have
> vanished from the face of the earth. All were swept away by a
black
> wind. The lands, killed by radiation, are now overgrown with
thistles
> and shrubs.
>
> Lately, I went to these sad places, together with my old good
> acquaintance, the former local kolchoz chairman Vasilij Lukiè
Pesenko,
> to say goodbye for a last time to Medve?'e and San'kovo, and
we
> immediately felt like being outsiders already. Entering and
being there
> is, like the sign warns you at the village entry, prohibited.
>
> The shattered Vasilij Lukiè stands in front of his house, or
rather,
> what is left of it: ruins and a pole of the garden gate, on which a
> forgotten and abandoned veteran star is getting wet in the rain.
He is
> silent, but I know, that he can't come to terms with everything
that
> has happened.
>
> Anatolij Vorob'ëv
>
>
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